Recondite Intimations
by Anita
Summary: She is indifferent to his pain, unable to bear the look in his eyes. Cameron's POV


Recondite Intimations

He was biting, angry, self-destructive. She was watching the world close in, hoping and praying that he would cry for help, but he remained stoic, cold, unmoved. He would never let his weakness show.

And somehow, she found herself wrapping his arm in bandages, pleading with him to give in, searching his eyes for the small glimmer of humanity she was certain he had.

She never found anything.

* * *

She gave and gave until it hurt to give anymore. She could not even fool herself into believing that her efforts had caused him to change at all. He was the same caustic, self-absorbed misanthrope that had hired her years ago.

She had watched him struggle as his ex-flame came back into his life; she had watched his despondent retreat from the world when Stacy left. She had seen him fight death for the second time in his life after being shot, had seen him recover, and for the first time in her life, she had seen him use both of his legs. She also saw him effortlessly crash and burn when the miracle of the ketamine had worn off.

And through it all, she wondered why such a man was made to suffer through so much.

She had lied through her teeth time and again, denying her continued feelings for her boss. She knew that if everyone else finally believed she was over him, then maybe she would be able to move beyond it too.

But her denials were dubious, her protestations unconvincing.

She was being led down a road to nowhere, and it had to be stopped.

* * *

"I think you of all people would want to cut him some slack."

She grimaced as her colleagues refused to believe her censure of House and his inability to accept rehab. Even when she tries her hardest to remain professional, remain focused on the task at hand, they throw it back at her. They were unconvinced. She had always been on his side, in his corner; they knew things wouldn't change so fast. Not when it came to her. And him.

* * *

"I'm going to stay here." She was shocked at her own words as soon as they came out. His eyes searched hers for a deeper understanding, but there was none. It had been a spontaneous decision, one she was proud she had been able to make. He didn't need her at the trial, and she didn't need to suffer through it.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." He pointedly addressed Chase and Foreman, and she felt a blush cross her cheeks. He always had a way of centering her out, yet making her feel like it was a punishment; one that she had doled out on herself.

She knew she was not a traitor, his betrayal was far worse than hers. And yet everyone was on his side. Wilson, Cuddy, they were all standing behind him, acting as if it was not their fault he was where he was in the first place.

She swallows the bitterness down her throat; jealousy was a strange sensation when you only had yourself to blame…

But she knows, above all else, that it needs to end.

* * *

It seemed like it had been weeks since she had last seen him. She chided herself for being so weak, for being so attached, for being so dependent. He had barely been gone a few hours, and Chase and Foreman anxiously attempted to fill the large void he had left.

She was surprised to find that she fit in that hole perfectly.

* * *

Like a whirlwind, he was back. Suddenly things began to move at their quick pace once again. It was twisted, it was undeserved, but somehow it was comforting.

Hearing him ramble on all-knowingly made her cringe inwardly. His egocentric conclusions had never been so invigorating.

His words were lost on her, but she soon felt his eyes upon her, probing into darkness. His mouth shaped into phrases, meanings, but she could only see the truth in his eyes. He needed to be forgiven. And she needed absolution.

He turned away quickly, his unspoken message drilling through her thoughts. She needed to stop him, needed to get it to all to slow down, needed to see her own weakness for what it was.

She called upon any excuse she could find to get him to turn towards her, any excuse to feel his gaze once more. She was almost afraid that he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what he wanted. She was unsure if he was merely manipulating her, making sure she stepped back in line.

But she had to believe. It was all she had left.

It was the games they played. The secret signals and the hidden signs. She often wondered if she was simply going insane. If there was really nothing there at all. But every so often, she would catch the glimpse in his eyes.

And she would remember to believe.

He needed to be forgiven. He wanted to be forgiven.

And so, in one swift motion, she wrapped her arms around him.

Because she had to go on living. The only way she knew how...


End file.
